


something

by pettybrat



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, sorry yall one day i will learn how 2 write proper fics, this is more like 'moira sad about breakup' and also its only like -3 sentences long sooooooooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 19:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20533094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pettybrat/pseuds/pettybrat
Summary: purple would look good on you, you know.





	something

moira stands in the doorway with a cold mug of black coffee in her hand. the conversation topics have been mulling around in her head since she got to work this morning, though arguably she’s had these thoughts for the last seven months. their only communication thus far had been the typical, dreadfully annoying ‘how’s the weather?’, ‘how is work treating you?’, ‘is that research coming along alright?’ et cetera, et cetera….

_ maybe i could tell her how good she looks _ , but knows the conversation that will follow will leave a bad taste in her mouth.  _ hah! maybe ‘angela, darling, you’ve lost weight…’ _

she looks down at her drink for a moment, and then at her tie. a dark lavender. she used to fluctuate between red and blue, since they were simple colours - she wore green  _ once _ , but took the tie off after being at work for 10 minutes due to the bombardment of low-effort Irish jokes - but  _ purple _ came into her wardrobe about a year ago, as a birthday gift.

from...angela.

surprise surprise.

_ i thought it would look cute on you! _

_ i hate purple. _

_ try it on, at least.  _

_ no. _

angela wasn’t going to accept that as an answer; she takes the tie and puts it on moira herself.

_ i told you so, _ and she was right. it  _ did _ look good.

moira’s jaw clenches thinking about it. how close she was to angela, the smell of her perfume, how soft her hands were as she dragged them down from her shoulders to her chest after putting on the tie, and… 

well, it’s weakness, isn’t it?

but, you know...she’s been doing so  _ well _ on her own! in fact, tonight she was planning on getting herself a little pet rabbit. she’d also tried out some dating apps, as well, and has a date set up for next tuesday. bought some new furniture for her apartment, too...she even started eating on a  _ regular _ schedule! maybe that’s a good conversation starter. 

no, of course not. why would angela even care? her life has been going on just fine, and she  _ never _ felt compelled to brag to you about it! it’s been seven months, o’deorain. get over yourself.

yet still she stands in the doorway during the short breaks between work, watching a doctor across the hall who doesn’t love her anymore do work to better the lives of others.

_ hm. _

moira takes another sip from her mug. it’s cold, now. or maybe it was cold to begin with. she doesn’t drink coffee for the taste or the ‘necessity’. more of a habit. the comfort of the hand movement.

angela watches her as she walks back to her office.

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone welcome to another episode of '3 word long, weird, disjointed stream-of-consciousness fic', hosted by me: the queen of shitty writing.
> 
> thank you for your support regardless, friends


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